Two Purple Gloves (A Pear Street Christmas #2)

CHAPTER TEN

“You better be in hospital or jail.”

LISA

I wake up the morning of Christmas Eve Eve, the night after the best party I’ve been to since starting university, with a big smile on my face. I think I still have my makeup on from last night and I’m still in the white negligee I wore to the party, mostly because it smells like Harry Forest, and I wanted to sleep with his scent wrapped around me. We ended up staying in his room for two hours and he proved to me that achieving orgasm after orgasm after orgasm was really just a mind over matter thing.

Harry seemed pretty confident that we’d be seeing each other again but I’m not so sure. I didn’t take any contact details from him, and I also feel it’s best to keep away. He’s definitely the kind of guy I could see myself falling hard for and I’m not sure that’s what I’m looking for right now. Probably best to stay away and if it’s meant to be, our paths will cross again when I’m ready to find a forever someone. Even as the thought crosses my mind, a shiver racks my body in rejection of the idea.

My phone buzzes on the bedside table and I roll over to pick it up, tapping the screen to see a message from an unknown number with a photo attachment. I frown, opening the screen and reading the message, initially confused by what I’m seeing. In the photo, there’s a girl I don’t know, she’s only about fifteen years old and sat in the back of a car, seatbelt over her chest, her lips rolled inward as she sits awkwardly. On her shoulder, is the sleeping head of an older guy. It takes me a few blinks to recognise him as the guy dressed as a reindeer and egging Harry on during our game of beer pong. Jake…something. He’s obviously fast asleep, mo uth open as he uses the poor girl as a makeshift pillow. It’s what’s resting across his chest that has me sitting up in bed. My purple satin gloves form a cross over his heart.

UNKNOWN: I hope you know I have officially taken your gloves hostage. If you ever want to see them again, you will message me at least once a day until we can meet again.

So many questions. But none important enough to stop the goofy smile stretching my lips.

ME: How did you get my number? And why are you taking my gloves hostage? What did they ever do to you? And who’s the girl?

UNKNOWN: Well, aren’t you just full of questions? I asked Abby to ask Tia and she gave her your number. Abby then held it for ransom until I gave her Jake’s number. The girl is my little sister, Nel. I’m afraid the gloves are just collateral damage. You’re the key to their survival, Angel. Make sure you meet my demands.

This stupid smile is actually starting to make my cheeks ache. Before responding, I save his number to my phone, having a strong feeling I’ll be using it in the future.

ME: And why exactly do you want me to message you every day?

FROSTY: Last night you told me I don’t know you. I want to rectify that.

ME: So, what? You just want me to message you random facts about myself for the foreseeable future?

FROSTY: Sure. Or maybe I’ll ask you something specific and I’ll expect a reply. Or the gloves get it.

ME: You know, those gloves were about ￡4. I could just get another pair.

FROSTY: Aw, come on now, play the game. It’s fun.

ME: Fine. But I want proof of life everyday too.

FROSTY: Deal.

When I’m on the train home, another photo comes through on our chat. This time, my gloves seem to have their own seat at a table laden with lunch food. Someone has put googly eyes on them, each pointing in a different direction and there’s a half-drunk glass of wine in front of them. I snort so loud the guy in the seat opposite looks up from his book with a start.

The next day, Christmas Eve, while I’m out to dinner with my parents, a photo of my gloves at a pub, same googly eyes and now stickers in the shape of lips have joined them. They’re actually on hands this time, one each being held up by Harry and Jake, who are pulling silly faces behind them, pints of beer lined up in front of them. It makes me smile, biting my lip as I put my phone back in my bag.

“What has you smiling?” Mum asks with a conspiratory grin.

“Nothing,” I say, probably too quickly.

“That’s the kind of smile a boy would be responsible for,” she singsongs.

I roll my eyes and refuse to say anything more.

At midnight on Christmas Eve, my phone rings, I’m not asleep but close to it, so it takes me a few moments to answer.

“Hello?”

“Angel.” The liquid heat of his voice pours into my ear and down into my chest, blooming to warm up my entire body.

“You better be in hospital or jail to be calling me this late, I need my beauty sleep you know.” I keep my tone stern, but I’m sure he can still hear my smile through the line.

“Are you saying you want to be my emergency contact?” He’s cocky. I hate cocky, but his cockiness tugs at my lower belly and sends a pulse between my legs.

“I’m saying there better be a good reason you’re calling, or I’m hanging up and won’t send you any fun facts tomorrow.”

“Do you mean later today?”

I look at the glowing green numbers on my alarm clock on the bedside table and see that it’s gone twelve. “I guess I do,” I say with a yawn.

He chuckles. “Okay, I won’t keep you up, I just wanted to be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas. ”

I close my eyes and smile as that warm feeling spreads further. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”

I don’t want to hang up and it seems that neither does he as we both stay on the line in silence. “I should go,” I say, hesitantly.

“Okay,” he sighs.

“I need to get some sleep.”

“Mmhmm.”

“My aunt, uncle, and cousin are coming over in the morning, so I need to be up early.” Each argument comes out weaker than the last.

“That sounds nice. You get on with your cousin?”

I bite down on my smile, tummy fluttering as he keeps the call going. “Yeah, she’s the best. There’s only six months between us and our mums are best friends, so we basically grew up as sisters.”

“So, spending Christmas with them is fun?”

“Oh yeah, there’s loads of food and drink and party games. You wouldn’t believe how competitive my dad and uncle get, it’s hilarious to watch.”

He laughs. “I hope I get to see that someday.”

My stomach flips. “How about you? Who do you spend Christmas with?”

“Just my mum and dad and Nel, we eat too much and drink. We’re not big with the party games, but watch cheesy Christmas movies, and the Queen’s speech.”

“Are you close with your sister?” I ask, rolling onto my side to face the empty side of my bed as if he’s there.

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds a little forced. “I mean, she’s five years younger than me, so not all that much in common, but we’re a tight family, the four of us.”

“That’s nice,” I say over another yawn.

“Get some sleep, baby.” I can hear his smile in his voice.

“Okay. ”

“Meeting you was already the best gift I got this year,” he says so quietly I’m unsure it was meant to be heard.

“Oh god, that was pure cheese,” I groan even though my heart is beating in double time and my stomach flips back the other way.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” I shake my head even though he can’t see me.

“Goodnight, Lisa.”

I hang up and drop my phone on my stomach, trying to calm my racing heart. It buzzes and I pick it up again to find a photo of Harry, head resting on pillows, one eye closed, the other peeking open to look at the camera. Resting on his shoulder are my purple gloves, googly eyes and kissy lip stickers gone. Harry appears to be shirtless and all I can see is his shoulder under my gloves, but my imagination can fill in the rest. I remember the sculpted firmness of his pecs, the sharp definition of his abdomen and the comforting warmth of his smooth golden skin.

It’s not really my style, but I can’t help turning my lamp on low, lifting my phone above my face and blowing a kiss as I click the camera. My strappy pyjama top is pulled low enough that the swell of my breast shows and I’m happy with the glow of my skin and how my hair is fanned behind me, so I click send and put my phone back down, determined not to look at it again. But when it buzzes again, I tilt the screen just enough to see one word across the screen.

FROSTY: Wow.

Waffles. Batter coming to room temperature.

Fruit salad. On the table.

Pastries. Baked.

Table. Laid by Harry last night—unlike me .

Juice. Decanted into jugs by Harry last night and laid on the table by me this morning.

Salmon for lunch. Poaching.

Sides for salmon. Rice in the rice cooker, ready to be switched on and veggies chopped, seasoned, oiled, and ready to roast.

Dinner. Light bite at the Christmas festival tonight.

Floors. Swept and mopped by Harry last night.

Washer-dryer. Full. I don’t remember putting it on but do have a fuzzy memory of Harry getting up early and leaving our bedroom with a loaded laundry basket.

Dishwasher. Empty and ready to be filled.

Milk for Mary. All of today’s bottles made up and in the fridge, which Harry must have done last night.

I feel like a weight has been lifted. Why didn’t Harry and I talk about things before? It’s stupid. Shaking my head at our idiocy, I spoon a ladle of waffle batter into the machine and close the lid. It’s still early, I wanted to get a head start on food prep for the day and came down to find Harry had ticked off a fair chunk of my to-do list. The itinerary I sent everyone says that we’ll be walking around the Christmas market this afternoon, but the weather app tells me it’s going to pummel it down so everyone else might stay here while I head out to the market. I have to go because I’m on the social committee. Something I’m definitely quitting after this year. Who needs the stress ?

Because it’s unlikely the kids will get out later, Harry has taken them out to the small play area down the road. It’s not much, but hopefully they’ll burn off some energy before being cooped up inside with twenty people all day. I hear the door open and the thudding of many pairs of feet coming up the hallway, signalling that they’re back but it’s not my husband’s face that greets me, it’s his best friend.

“Hi, Jake,” I greet him with a genuine smile.

“Lis.” He comes in, carrying Mary. Lucas and Oscar push past him into the kitchen .

When the boys were just babies, as soon as they saw me, they’d hold their chubby little arms out for me to take them from whoever was carrying them at the time. My daughter is nowhere near as clingy, I don’t think she’s even noticed I’m here as she grabs at Jake’s face. Her little cheeks are red from the cold and Jake wrestles to get the snowsuit off her. Do I try to help him? Of course not. Far more fun this way.

“Oh my god, I will never get used to that snowman,” Nel’s voice calls from the hallway before she appears through the door. “It’s kind of creepy.”

I bark out a laugh. Our inflatable snowman was on sale after last Christmas, so I bought it and packed it away until this year. But when Harry unpacked it, we both jumped back a bit. I don’t know what they did to this guy’s face, but it’s not right. “Leave Frosty Junior alone.”

Nel shivers and then catches sight of Jake still jostling Mary out of her snowsuit. “Give her here,” she says, taking the baby from Jake, helpfully moving all three of them toward the dining area and out of my way.

“I found some strays outside,” Harry says, coming into the kitchen with ruddy cheeks and his green bobble hat that matches his eyes. He comes straight over to me and kisses my cheek before pulling his hat off and ruffling his golden hair, making it perfectly messy.

“So glad you brought them in, now we have babysitters.” I smirk as I take the cooked waffles out of the machine and ladle another portion of batter in.

“Boys,” Harry calls over to where Lucas and Oscar are sniffing around the table to see if there’s anything worth stealing. There’s not, I learnt my lesson from last year when they stole the entire platter of pain au chocolat and ate them under the table. “Why don’t you take Jake and Auntie Nels-Bells into the lounge and play a boardgame?”

“Ooh, can we play snakes and ladders?” Oscar asks Jake.

Before he can answer, Lucas groans. “We always play that. I want to play Cluedo.”

“What about Monopoly?” Nel suggests .

“What’s Monopoly?” Oscar asks.

Both Nel and Jake turn to us with horrified indignation. “What have you been teaching these kids?” Jake asks.

“Yes, well we thought they were a bit young to be learning about the property market and infrastructure needs of London. Not to mention the unrealistic expectations it will give them for property prices,” Harry says thoughtfully.

Nel’s eyes widen in excitement as she looks at me. “Can we give them one of their Christmas presents now?”

Harry and I share a look, a brief, silent conversation happening as the boys start begging us to agree. With a nod of heads, I turn back to Nel with a shrug. “If you’d like.”

She hands a now appropriately dressed Mary back to Jake and darts from the room, I hear her disappear outside and then come back in with a large box wrapped in elegant black and white striped paper. “This is for both of you,” she says sternly. “So, you’ll share nicely or we take it away, okay?”

I smirk to myself, getting the next load of waffles in the machine. Nel used to say very little to the boys, feeling awkward and uncertain around them but seeing them more often and taking a lead from Jake—who has basically been a third parent to our kids—she’s now the auntie I always knew she could be and one the boys absolutely deserve.

“Ooh it’s Disney!” Oscar says excited as he and Lucas rip the lovely paper to reveal what’s beneath.

I take a quick break from waffle duties to step over and peek, the paper falls away to reveal a Disney Monopoly board and I break out a huge grin. “Wow guys, what do you say?”

They both start chanting thank you and running to hug both Nel and Jake who squeeze them back and kiss their heads with beaming you’re welcomes. I’m so proud of them. Of my boys for being such great kids to give gifts to, always appreciative and always generous in their gratitude. Proud of Jake and Nel for being the best versions of themselves with each other and for being everything we could have ever wished for as aunt and uncle to our babies .

“Can we play?” Lucas asks, grabbing the box off the table and already heading to the door.

“Sure thing, bud, go set up.” Jake stands, automatically heading to the fridge and pulling a bottle of milk out for Mary without asking.

“She ate a lot of porridge this morning, so she might not drink all that,” I tell him.

“Aye Cap’n,” he says with a wave as he takes the kids and Nel through to the living room.

Harry smiles down at me when we’re left in the relative peace of our kitchen, alone. “I see you getting all misty eyed, Mrs Forest.”

I shrug and step up to him to lay my head on his chest, feeling his arms encircle me. “I love our little family.”

“Me too, babe.”

“I know I don’t normally want help in the kitchen, but do you fancy keeping me company?”

“Always.” He kisses my head, and we get to work.